CHAPTER 10
The bed had black rails-bars, indeed-at either end.
Surmounted on the corners were brass spheres that shone like four small suns. The coverlet was white, and fringed with pink: long tassels that might tickle me. Two heavy wardrobes brooded. In between them was a dressing table, busy with perfume phials and flasks of scented oil and pots of cream. Above the bed where the pillows became neighbours to the wall hung a black whip, its short and tapered tail curled like a serpent. A broad, tall mirror on a swivel-stand faced inwards to the bed from the far corner and reflected all. The door closed, Harry took off his cravat and coat and placed them on a chair. I waited, licked my lips, and felt my mouth grow dry. 'Go to the corner-there, close to the mirror, head bowed, facing in, your dress pulled up. I wish to see your legs and bottom first', he said.
His words shocked me. I had expected first a tender kiss, the protestations of desire and admiration. I had already seen myself, face in his shoulder, being comforted. 'You mean to treat me badly, as the others did?', I asked, but did not turn my head to look at him. 'I mean to love you, Emily-hence you will show obedience.
It is the only way with girls who have not been put to trials. I shall adore to suck upon your tongue, to lave your breasts with kisses, peck your nipples. Stiff will they rise, I have no doubt of it. You have a look of innocence and lewdness both, which well becomes you. Your sister Jane is similar, but has more boldness in the movements of her hips, as you must learn henceforth to have'. 'Oh! You mean I am to do it with anyone!' 'To the contrary, my pet, you will do it with whomever you wish-will say nay to several, will say yes to some, but first, with me, must learn submissiveness. Constance has tongued you, and you have seen her sister corked'. 'I have… I have… I have no need to learn', I muttered. How I longed for him to take me in his arms, and yet I felt before him as I used to with my tutor who would fondle my tits occasionally the while I blushed and read my broken Latin from a book, ignored his touch, but felt the swelling, proud. 'Go to the corner, Emily-obey!' I slouched as Jane slouched, and felt mutinous- which was precisely what he intended me to feel. Head bowed, the dark flowers of the wallpaper underneath my eyes, I ruffled up my gown, exposed myself, my swelling globe, the offered cleft-was told to remain so, held my feet together and thus stood in an utter silence that he would not break. I heard him casting off his clothes, boots falling with a clatter, heard the slithering of trousers, knew his nakedness unseen. The bed creaked, and I hunched my shoulders-waited, waited on commands. And yet in waiting I experienced precisely that which he intended me to do: the quivering sensation that a female knows when she offers up obedience to the male. 'Turn! Walk towards the bed-stand by the side of it-expose yourself, he uttered. 'Why do you make me do?', I whined, heard my own whine and felt ashamed of it. More so, perhaps, than showing him my bush, hairs fluffed, dark-brown upon my creamy skin. His penis, purplish at the knob, was full erect and wavered up his belly. Doubtfully, and showing doubtfulness in my slow steps, I moved until my stocking tops touched the bed's edge. Placing his arms behind his head, his legs apart to show his balls, he asked me when I last was whipped. I had not been, I said. He tutted, shook his head, and bid me hold my legs apart, yet the nature of his admonition showed amusement rather than dismay. 'You will pleasure penises tomorrow night the better for the instructions that I give you, Emily. Bend forward, place your palms upon the bed, and take my pego in your mouth, but do not touch it with your hands. No hesitations, dearest. Have you not sucked one before? It matters not-you have to learn the taste of it and feel the throb upon your tongue'. I bent, but hesitated, wished to disobey. No sooner had I inclined my body with unwillingness than he reached and seized my hair, caused me to yelp, then urged the plum between my open lips and held my neck. I gurgled, spluttered. O how meaty was his pulsing rod! Three inches, four, slid in upon my tongue, the swollen crest eased by my warm saliva. Inside myself I cried at the humiliation, as I thought of it, yet knew the hypocrisy of pleasure, too. 'More, Emily! Suck on it gently!' Up and down my head was bobbed by his impelling hand, the lewdness of the act repelling and enchanting me at the same time, mouth-moisture trickling down his tool which the more vibrant seemed the more I sucked. Then with such sweet brutality as made me gasp, he wrenched my mouth off, pulled me down upon him, falling sideways as I did, and took my mouth. 'Harry!', I sobbed.
'My darling, yes'. My belly quivered, rippled, on his prick.
My pussy hairs grazed at the root of it, my gown and my chemise dragged up by his quick hands to sting my nipples to his chest. He rolled me, rolled me then, until I lay beneath, eyes wide, my stockinged legs apart. 'D… d… d… do it to me, do!' I sobbed, my eyes, cheeks, corners of my mouth all kissed, he laughing, breathing heavily, one leg between my own, prick pulsing passionate against my stocking top. 'You will now be obedient, Emily?'
'Oh yes, I will!' My tongue intruded, whirled around his own, but he withdrew his mouth and knelt up, leaving me bereft, cock waggling stiffly to my view. 'Turn over, then, kneel up-your bottom thrust'. 'Not that way, Harry-no!', I whined, reached up my arms to draw him down, but squealed dismay as he then smacked my thighs.
'Turn OVER-bottom up!', he snapped, slapping my hips, I jerking this way, that. Tears started in my eyes. I looked dismayed, put on a woeful look, but had myself forced over and my bottom raised. Without preamble then he ringed my waist and hugged me into him and smacked my bared cheeks heftily, I squealing, 'No! Oh, Harry, don't!' Nape of my neck was held, nose buried in the pillow. Was I always to be handled so? SMACK! SMACK! 'NEE-AAARGH! Please, don't-please don't!'
My scorched cheeks wriggled to his blasting palm. I tightened them and pinched my nostrils, closed my eyes. I was in purgatory, so I thought, instead of love's warm haven. Still, without remorse, he smacked my offered orb and brought the stinging deep until the flames licked inbetween. 'OH-WOH-WOH-WOH!', I sobbed and clenched my fists, pressing them through the pillow to the bolster's harder bulge beneath. I felt the heat irradiating through my cheeks and knew for the first time the sense of uttermost exposure and submission that it brings.
'Remain -or I will bring the whip to you', he said, then slowly shuffled off the bed, I with face hid and squirming still, but did not dare to move. I heard a clink from near the dressing table, then Harry returned and knelt again behind me on the bed.-'Be still; I am anointing you', he said. I gasped, jerked, jittered as his finger, oiled, roamed carefully around my puckered hole and soothed warm lotion in. His hands then roughly spread my calves apart.
'A pity you were not attended to at home in this wise as most young girls are', I heard, then gritted out a squeak as the warm crest of his stiff penis-slippery in turn with oil-pushed in its helmet to invade my bottomhole. 'GAR! NO!', I sobbed. Both James and Constance, not to say her father, too, had slipped their fingers up me there, but this was bigger: the huge stave of flesh impelled itself relentlessly within until I felt my breath expelled, clawed at the pillow and beseeched his grace or mercy, or whatever word came quite haphazard to my lips. 'Obedience, Emily!', he growled. Ah, that our language-richer surely than are most-had more elan, more glitter (call it what you will) when lending itself to descriptions of the acts of love! I was being sodomised, was being buggered, and how wretchedly rough and aggressive are those words- how crude their connotations, and how harsh they sound! Better to say that I was being pistoned, for I have heard it since called such, or being 'corked' which, at the least, has a greater homeliness to it. Many are the maidens I have seen, long since, having their derrieres plugged, and none emerged from it with tears, though often breathless, having spent the while the penis moved within their nether holes. One panics at the first. The pity of it, but one does, unless long fingering and sweet caresses first have done their work and charmed the girl to offer it, hard nippled, langourous, as she becomes. One wriggles, but that aids one's conqueror. As for myself, I reached my hands up, gripped the bed's iron rail and pushed back pettishly, the movement serving only to embed his corker deeper. 'NOO-HOO! NOO-HOO!', I petulantly sobbed. A strangled 'AH!' escaped me as he thrust my head and shoulders roughly down, forced me to loose my hold, then rooted in until his balls nubbed underneath my nest. 'Ah, Emily, what a fine plump arse you have!', growled Harry. Pulsing in my yielded hole, which so expanded magically and clenched his tool in a warm, spongy grip, he moved his poker gently back and forth, creating such sensations that I all but swooned, felt my head feathery and light, my bottom bigger, bulging to his flesh. I jerked and quivered, hips clasped by his palms, yet dared not move too much. The stinging that I first had felt began to fade. I felt my clitoris a-tingle, then his right hand cupped my hairy notch and soothed it gently, causing me to squirm in such a manner as delighted him. Drawing his throbbing shaft half out, he held it thus and fingered round my spot. 'There, darling, there. You have your first prick up your bottom. Contain it, squeeze upon it, roll your hips but gently and not overmuch'.